What's this? The Authoress is capable of posting? LeGASP!

Ahem. So, this is an exchange fic with Crackberries, whom Prussia has officially declared to be Awesome. He now commands you to visit her profile riiiight... NOW. Wait... NOW. ...Now.

Tch, it doesn't work if you ignore me...

Anyways. She gave me an option between PruCan and SpeRo. Hopefully I did alright.

Gilbert didn't know whose house it was, and he didn't know if they were invited. But there was a party going down, and damn it if the Bad Friends Trio wasn't going to show up. So he dressed in his Friday night best, complete with a dab of cologne behind each ear and a smidge of gel to keep his silver hair in its careful tousle while he partied the night away. Then, at the sound of a horn beeping from the street, he ran out his front door to a red, top-down convertible parked in front of his house. He hopped over the side into the backseat and grinned at the two boys in front.

"Tonight's gonna be awesome," he said. "I can feel it."

~xxx~

Francis parked his car at the end of a long line on the street. They were arriving fashionably late as usual, and the party was well underway. The Bad Friends Trio made their way into the house and stood inside the door, taking a moment to survey the scene.

"Gilbo~" Antonio whined. "Do we have to hang out together the whole time?"

"Yes."

"But Lovi's here!"

"I thought he told you he wasn't coming."

"I believe his exact words were 'Why the hell would I want to go to a party with a tomato bastard like you,'" Francis interjected.

"But that's Lovi's way of saying yes!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. He'd spotted Ludwig and his Italian buddy on the outskirts of the crowd, and resolved to steer his friends across the room from them. It had recently occurred to Gilbert that his little brother was getting more action than him, and he wasn't even having sex. This fact bothered Gilbert deeply, and he didn't need Antonio ruining his night out with more couple-y mush. He scanned the room. The only question now was where to start the party...

Gilbert froze, his eyes locked towards a corner of the room. "On second thought," he said, "Maybe we should split up."

Antonio was off immediately, heading towards where Gilbert had seen Ludwig and the Italian brothers. Gilbert stalked off too, leaving Francis to search around the room for a moment before homing in on the night's victim.

~xxx~

Antonio approached the group with a finger over his lips, hoping that Feli (he wasn't really concerned about Ludwig) wouldn't let Lovino know he was coming. Ludwig noticed him, and thankfully distracted Feliciano - he wasn't sure how, he wasn't paying attention - allowing Antonio to sneak up from behind and wrap his arms around Lovino's waist.

Surprisingly, the boy didn't react with his usual fiery retaliation. Instead, he laid an arm over the Spaniard's and turned to look over his shoulder. "'assup, Toni?"

There was no mistaking the smell of alcohol wafting from Lovino's breath, or the way his words were slurring together. In fact, Antonio noted with horror, Lovino was still holding a can of beer, which was almost empty when he snatched it from his hands. "Lovino," he said, not even bothering to hide his shock, "you're drunk!"

"Nuh uh," Lovino shot back, "I only had two." His hands reached blindly for the can Antonio had confiscated. "I wanted - hic - I wanted to make it three."

"Lovi, I think you need to leave."

"No, but Toni, you just got here~" Lovino whined, slumping against Antonio and clutching weakly at his shirt.

Antonio rested his hands on the Italian's waist in a halfhearted embrace, more concerned with getting him home safely. "Where are your car keys?"

"In his back pocket," Feliciano offered, sounding very much sober. Antonio noticed that he was holding not a can of beer, but a juice box, one which Ludwig had no doubt brought himself. The German in question, who Antonio knew from experience could hold down his alcohol, wasn't drinking anything. Antonio hoped Lovino had at least recognized how much the "potato bastard" was taking care of his little brother before the alcohol clouded his brain.

Antonio shoved his hand into Lovino's pocket. Under other circumstances, he might have realized that this was the first time he'd ever been able to touch him this way. But under other circumstances, Lovino would never have allowed his hand to get that close in the first place. Not realizing that his car keys had been pickpocketed, Lovino pressed even closer to Antonio. "You really do want to take me home, don't you?" he purred.

And with that, Antonio lifted the brunet up and marched out the front door.

~xxx~

Gilbert kept his eyes fixed on one face as he made his way through the crowd, a battle raging within his head. Logic and, frankly, fear, told him a simple introduction would suffice. But then again he was feeling pretty bold tonight...

Well. With the lights out, it's less dangerous... right?

So, before he could change his mind, Gilbert flung an arm around the blond's waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

Matthew's eyes flew open in surprise, but he didn't pull away. Then Gilbert's lips parted and released a sigh, causing the hairs on the back of Matthew's neck to stand up, and his eyes slipped closed. A tongue flicked across his lips, and then, as abruptly as it had begun, the kiss was broken.

Matthew kept his eyes shut for a moment, afraid to open them to the real world, where this person would undoubtedly realize that he wasn't Alfred, and go off to find a brother who had never been invisible in his life.

When he did look up, however, he found a pair of red eyes staring at him intently. "Are you drunk?" Matthew blurted out, blushing when he realized his mistake.

The albino smirked at him. "Not at all. I just got here, actually."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"I had to see if you taste as awesome as you look."

"Oh." Matthew wasn't sure how to respond. "...Did I?"

"Better."

There was silence for a moment. Gilbert took his hand and led him into another room, where the music wasn't quite as loud. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Matthew. Matthew Williams."

Gilbert nodded. "You related to that Alfred kid? You look kinda similar."

Matthew honestly couldn't tell whether he was joking. He kept his expression as neutral as possible and responded, "We're twins."

"Oh." Gilbert blinked. "That would do it, huh?" He smirked again.

"I didn't catch your name," Matthew pressed.

"I'm awesome, but you can call me Gilbert." The albino grinned widely, and Matthew couldn't help but smile back. "Whaddaya say we blow this joint? I want to get to know you somewhere we don't have to be drunk."

Matthew hesitated. Was it okay to leave the party? Would Alfred mind - or even notice? He looked at Gilbert's expectant face, and nodded, before promptly being dragged towards the front door. "You wait here," Gilbert instructed, "-I'll be right back."

Gilbert ducked and wove through the crowd, looking for a set of blond locks with a perverted aura about it. Finally he found it by the "punch" bowl, where Francis was standing inches away from a pretty brunette, a hand creeping up from her waist in a very suspicious manner. "Francis!" he yelled.

Francis flashed him an irritated glare before meeting him a few feet away. "What is it, Gilbert? I'm a bit... busy." He jerked his head to indicate the girl behind him.

Gilbert poked his head around him to take a look. "Isn't she your cousin?"

"Of course she isn't."

"Yeah she is. Remember, she came up to visit from Seychelles a couple years ago?"

Francis turned to look at her again. "Oh. So she is." He turned to face Gilbert again, clearly not bothered by this fact at all.

Well. That was Francis for you. But Gilbert couldn't make small talk all night - he had a favor to ask. "I need your car keys."

"But, mon ami, what if I need my car later?"

"Come on. We both know you're not going home tonight."

"This is true." He smirked, and Gilbert tried to suppress a shudder. Francis pulled his keys from his pocket and made to drop them into Gilbert's impatiently outstretched hand, but suddenly jerked them back. "Ah, but why do you need them?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Nothing like that," Gilbert insisted. "We're just hanging out somewhere else. This party's lame anyway," he added, painfully aware of which of their Trio had been so adamant about coming in the first place. He gestured to the door, where Matthew was looking through the crowd anxiously. The sight made Gilbert inexplicably... antsy.

"Ah, mon petit Mathieu." At the look on Gilbert's face, he explained, "Other cousin."

"Oh." Gilbert paused. "You haven't tried to hit on him, have you?"

Francis chuckled. "Don't worry, I've left him pure as snow for you." He handed over the keys.

Gilbert wasn't sure whether his "Thanks!" was for Matthew or the car, but in any case he was soon tugging his new acquaintance out the door.

"Ah, young love..." Francis sighed, hoping Gilbert remembered about the stash of "trinkets" he kept in the glove compartment.

Gilbert hopped into the driver's seat and stuck the keys into the ignition. "So, where do you want to go?"

Matthew stood frozen on the sidewalk. "This is your car?" he asked in shock.

"Friend's." He patted the seat beside him, and Matthew climbed in through the passenger side door. "I was thinking we could go back to my place and you could help get my fire going. I haven't done it in a while."

"Uhm... I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Aw, not you too? Mattie, you sound just like my parents! I'm perfectly capable of handling a stupid campfire! I mean, jeez, you set the babysitter on fire once and they never trust you with matches again? I can be perfectly mature when I want to be, thank you very much!"

Matthew blinked. "Wait, you were talking about an actual fire?"

"Well, yeah. What were you thinking about?"

Matthew avoided the question and sunk lower in his seat. "Campfire sounds good," he mumbled.

Gilbert smirked and started the car.

~xxx~

Antonio laid Lovino down across the backseat of the Vargas family car and wrestled a seat belt around his waist, then laid his jacket over him. He knew his friends would give him some flak for leaving the party so early, but a drunk, underage Lovino was something Antonio had hoped to never see. What the boy needed was a comfortable bed and someone to wake up to - not the hard tile floor of someone else's bathroom.

From his view through the rear mirror, Antonio could see Lovino blinking his eyes as if trying not to fall asleep. And he could swear he was surreptitiously sniffing his jacket the whole way home.

Why did he have to be his cutest when he was drunk?

Antonio pulled up to his house and carried the Italian up the front steps. He opened the door with a key he'd given Lovino long before, glad the boy had been lying when he said he'd thrown it out. It was easy enough to find - he'd painted Antonio's lucky number on the handle and put it on the same, separated keyring as the key to his Ferrari.

So, so cute...

Antonio set Lovino down on his bed. Lovino, it turned out, was not quite yet asleep, and as Antonio was taking off his shirt, he stirred. "Mmm, 'tonio..."

"What is it, Lovi? I'm right here."

"Toni... Toni, I love you..."

Antonio froze. Lovino was half asleep and drunk. He couldn't possibly know what he was saying. "Lovino, why don't you tell me that in the morning? If you do, I'll say it back."

"Mkay, Toni, I will, I promise I will... I..."

Lovino's snoring suddenly filled the room. Antonio sighed and pulled a blanket over him. There was no way he'd recall this conversation when he woke up. He pulled the curtains tightly shut to keep out the light of the sunrise, placed a gentle kiss on a sleeping forehead, and went to sleep on the living room couch.

~xxx~

Gilbert parked the car across the street, just in case his parents should come home earlier than planned. Then he all but dragged Matthew out of the car and pulled him around the house. Of course his guest was perfectly capable of walking, but it was definitely much faster to lead him around this way, and it definitely did not feel good to have their fingers interlocked at all. He pushed the blond down into a fold-up camping chair and started stacking logs into the metal lid of a trashcan he'd circled with rocks.

Finally Matthew spoke. "Aren't you worried your parents might find out that you're building an illegal campfire without their permission?" He paused. "Or that you brought a stranger home from a party where alcohol was distributed to minors?"

"They never have to know. They both work the night shift, anyway. Me'n Luddy can basically do whatever we want until about 5 or so."

"Oh."

Gilbert crouched down and shoved balled-up sheets of newspaper under the logs, lighting some and blowing furiously. He poked and prodded here and there with a stick that seemed to have fallen out of a tree 25 years prior, and when the flames were sputtering to his satisfaction he pronounced it "Awesome." He looked back at Matthew. "Hold my stick, don't let the fire die, and I'll be back in a couple minutes." Then he took off, fumbling with his keys for a moment before hastily making his way through the back door. Matthew looked uneasily at the dark windows of the neighboring houses, and shifted one of the logs back and forth.

True to his word, Gilbert soon jumped down the back stairs, holding a bag of jumbo marshmallows. He ripped through the plastic, gave one to Matthew, and speared another on a new stick of his own. Then he dragged another camping chair over next to Matthew's and held his marshmallow over the fire.

Matthew looked at him blankly, marshmallow in one hand, stick in another. "Uh, are we seriously going to eat off these sticks?"

Gilbert looked up in surprise. "What, you've never roasted marshmallows before?"

"No. I missed the whole camping experience. I went to science camp every summer instead."

Gilbert tried not to let his amusement slip as he reached over, speared Matthew's marshmallow, and handed the stick back. "By the time the marshmallow cooks the germs will all be burnt off anyway." He went back to slowly rotating his own stick over the fire as Matthew hesitantly extended his own. "You've seriously never been camping before?"

"Never once."

"Oh, careful, you'd better hold that up higher or else it'll-" Matthew lifted a flaming marshmallow out of the fire and blew on it frantically until it finally went out. Gilbert chuckled. "-burn." He held his own stick lower until he too had set his marshmallow aflame. Then he coolly blew it out, winked at Matthew, and prised the sticky mess off of the stick, popping it into his mouth.

Matthew tried not to stare as Gilbert licked his fingers clean, and pointedly scraped the charred remains of his on marshmallow onto a rock. Gilbert reached for another pair and handed one to him. "You and me, Mattie, we're gonna go camping together someday. We can make it a camp-off against Luddy - he thinks he's so good at 'wilderness survival' because he went to boy scout camp in the tenth grade, but I think with our combined powers of Awesome we could easily kick his ass."

For a moment Matthew didn't reply. Then he said, "You talk about your brother a lot, you know that? I always hear you comparing yourself to him. You really don't have to do that - you're perfectly fine the way you are."

Gilbert grinned. "I'm not just fine, I'm awesome." His smile faded, and he grew more serious. "Still, though, it's kinda hard not to. I mean, his whole life everybody's always liked him better than me. He gets better grades, the teachers love him, he follows all the rules... When he was a baby he didn't cry as much as I did, and he was an angel as a toddler - never broke a thing, no matter how much I tried to corrupt him. He was even cuter than me! Than me!"

"Gil, you think I don't know what that's like? Nobody even remembers that Alfred has a brother, let alone a twin. You're the first person who's bothered to notice me in... jeez, I don't know how long. But that's just how life is. One day everything will be alright, but for now we just have to endure."

Gilbert examined his marshmallow. "Well, maybe now we don't have to."

It was a long time before either of them spoke again. There was nothing more they needed to say.

~xxx~

When Lovino first woke up, he didn't really want to move, because for some reason his pillow smelled like Antonio. Then he groggily realized that the whole bed smelled like Antonio, because it was his bed.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Lovino shot up and flung the covers off of himself. Relief slipped through the immediate pounding of his head: he was still wearing pants, which meant that however he'd gotten there, it hadn't involved sex. He'd heard of people who lost their virginity when they were drunk and couldn't even remember it all the next morning. To Lovino, that would be an absolute worst case scenario. He'd already promised - himself, his brother, his nonno, God, whomever cared - that he would at least save that part of himself until he got married, as sissy as it might've been to do so. Lovino liked to put it another way: he wasn't a slut.

He lay back down and tried to piece together his night. Sitting up so quickly wasn't smart, and had made his headache seem all the more unbearable, but this was important. For starters, how many drinks had he had?

Lovino thought for a moment. Only two. Hm, wait... And most of a third. But Antonio had taken that one before he could finish it...

Ah, that's right! Antonio had brought him home! And then let him have his bed, and then...

Oh. Oh no, he'd actually said that?

And then promised to say it again?

Lovino groaned. He didn't want to go through the drama of a... confession, but Antonio had promised he'd say it back... And dammit, it was about time he heard the man say it! He'd been waiting long enough for something to happen, but obviously the bastard didn't have enough balls to say it first, even though he'd been hinting at it for as long as Lovino could remember. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

Lovino smirked. And Antonio thought Spain was the country of passion. He'd prove him wrong today.

He just had to find him first.

He wasn't in the kitchen and the house was quiet, so unless he'd left Lovino home alone (which is something Lovino knew he would never do, even though Lovino so didn't need a babysitter), he was still asleep somewhere.

And there he was, sound asleep on the couch, a sheet lying on the ground next to him. Lovino watched him for a moment and sighed. The bastard probably had morning breath. Even so...

He walked to the couch and gingerly lay down on Antonio's chest. He pressed his nose into Antonio's chest, to the lean muscles he knew were hidden under his shirt, and inhaled deeply. It was then that he looked up and saw that Antonio was in fact awake, and staring at him.

Shit.

"What are you doing, Lovi?"

"Guest is s'posed to sleep on the couch, so I am," he said gruffly.

Antonio laughed. "Lovi, it's no trouble. You needed the bed more than I did. I figured it was probably better if you recovered here a bit, because your parents would probably notice how hungover you are."

Lovino dropped his eyes, instead examining the pattern of the upholstery on the throw pillow behind Antonio's head. "Thank you."

Antonio hesitated. "I'd say 'any time,' but I still don't like the thought of you being drunk, so I'm just gonna hope I don't have to do this again." He flashed a lopsided grin.

Lovino blushed, trying not to think too much about how attractive that smile was. The butterflies in his stomach reminded him of his objective. "No, really... Thank you." The inadequacy of his words was not lost on him. How could you possibly thank someone for everything they'd ever done, for every moment they'd spent with you, for even existing in your world? "And... I meant what I said, you know. I... I really do love you." He ducked his head and buried his face into Antonio's chest.

Antonio's whole body seemed to stiffen. Then he wrapped his arms around the Italian and pulled him higher on his chest, lifting his head with a gentle hand. "I really love you, too," he said, and Lovino could tell by the for-once serious look on his face that he meant every word.

And then they were kissing, and Lovino didn't care that they'd just had the corniest exchange in history, or that Antonio would probably be hugging him for the rest of the day, because he'd been waiting for this, dammit, waiting for far too long.

Antonio broke away first, gently, eyes still closed. "Your stomach growled three times, did you realize that?"

As if on cue, it gurgled loudly from between them.

Lovino huffed. "Five more minutes," he said roughly, and pulled Antonio in once more.

~xxx~

Matthew awoke slowly, keeping his eyes closed. He'd had the strangest dream, something that whirled from a house party to roasting marshmallows to a foggy memory of Gilbert dressing him in his pajamas...

He sat up with a start.

Gilbert.

So it was real, all of it. That meant that Gilbert had seen him in his underwear, which was no less embarrassing to him than if he'd been conscious at the time. But as he mulled over the rest of the night's events, the embarrassment gave way to a kind of awe. Matthew Williams didn't get kissed by random strangers. Matthew Williams was never invited to anyone's home, and he definitely never said yes if that person was a stranger. So what on earth was so special about Gilbert?

Matthew raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair, and found something slightly out of the ordinary. He pulled from his forehead a bright pink sticky note, on which there had been scrawled a note:

So, we should totally hang out again - maybe
on a real date this time?

Below the message there was a phone number.

Matthew smiled. It was a number he was definitely going to call.

Likey like? I couldn't decide which one to write, so I picked both! :D

I'd actually never done SpeRo before. During my (relentless) editing process, I made Lovino's POV much more Lovino-ish. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I suppose I can't make it much better... So here it is at last. Sorry for the wait. /crawls into quicksand